“Ummm, let’s see…right now I think it’s somewhere around Playboy’s January centerfold.”

“Ok, I see it now. Wow, look at that! You mind if I make a copy?”

“Go ahead and take that one. I’m done with it anyway. Oh…and while you’re at it, could you do me a favor and stick in a few pages from that National Geographic I saw in the waiting room?”

“Sure. Which ones do you want?”

“I especially like that mouth-watering article I saw on harvesting mushrooms. I think it was somewhere in Wonderland. Or maybe it was Oz?”

“Humm…I hope you don’t mind my asking, but have you seen a neurologist lately? I’ve heard that they strongly recommend replacing all brain pages left over from childhood, and it sounds like you really need to get your map layer updated…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll look into it…but right now I’m trying to save up enough to get my new subscription to Sports Illustrated installed. Apparently there’s a space problem, and they may have to lengthen my face if I want to include the Swimsuit edition. Which is okay with me, but I’m not sure how my girlfriend is going to like it.”

“I know what you mean. About a year ago my wife went through that same procedure when she decided to add a subscription to Oh! And I haven’t been able to look at her since…”

Like this:

She ran into the bathroom, closed the door, stuffed teddy into the toilet, then closed the lid and flushed. But teddy was too big to flush, and the toilet began to overflow. Frustrated, she opened the lid, pulled teddy back out, ran into the hall, and threw him downstairs. Which was too bad for kitty, who was sleeping on the bottom step, and caught the full brunt of teddy’s fall. Hearing kitty screech, Mom immediately dropped the egg she was holding and ran from the kitchen to see what happened. And dad, dozing on the front porch, also heard the noise and came rushing in. What they found was startling. At the bottom of the stairs lay a soggy teddy, and up above, hand on hip and glaring down at them, was their six-year-old daughter Kim.
.
.
“So, how’s that for a start?”

“Come on Dad, that’s stupid. Besides, it’s way over 100 words!”

“Look, you asked me to write a sample story to go with your drawing. So I did. I’m sorry it’s too long. But that’s no big deal. Just find some words you don’t like, and erase them. Or, even better, write your own damn story.”

“Very funny. Could you at least give it an ending?”

“Sure. How’s this?”

Kim looked down at her parents, shrugged, then returned to her room, packed some clothes, and left that night to join the circus.

“You know what, Dad? You’re an a**hole!”

“Maybe. And that reminds me…do you think she’ll need money for bus fare?”

* * *

I have to credit my six-year-old daughter for the “Kim Possible” drawing, which she did a few days ago. But I’ve been instructed to point out that she was not a participant in the fictional ‘drama’ depicted above. (Which, sadly, consumed 239 perfectly good words in the telling.)